


forget-me-nots & freesias

by kittan



Series: things turned out a little differently (PWZ3) [2]
Category: Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Date Nights, Fluff, Happy Valentine's Day!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittan/pseuds/kittan
Summary: “C’mon, Rossiu, you could at least act excited.”“I cannotbelieveI let you talk me into this.”“Into what?! A day off at my house? Geez, this is exactly why I said you should take a break!”“We arebusy, Simo--”“We aren’t so busy that you can’t come spend a night at my house, your boyfriend’s house, for Valentine’s!”two glimpses of two very different dates. (written to go with cin @coredriII's valentine's day art!)
Relationships: Kittan Bachika/Kamina, Rossiu Adai/Simon
Series: things turned out a little differently (PWZ3) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637653
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. night in - rossiu/simon

**Author's Note:**

> **dark red carnations:** My Heart Aches for You, Alas My Poor Heart, Passionate Love  
>  **freesias:** Innocence, Trust, Thoughtfulness

“C’mon, Rossiu, you could at least _act_ excited.”

“I cannot _believe_ I let you talk me into this.”

“Into what?! A day off at my house? Geez, this is exactly why I said you should take a break!”

“We are _busy,_ Simo--”

“We aren’t so busy that you can’t come spend a night at my house, _your boyfriend’s house,_ for Valentine’s!”

Simon’s grin was almost blinding, and Rossiu silently cursed the fact he’d gotten increasingly better at both talking him into things and objectively being right about things not pertaining to work. With a quiet, defeated sigh, he let his hands drop from his head as he allowed himself to be dragged by one arm to Simon’s car, and spent the walk trying to recap how it’d come to being dragged out of work for a movie date.

  
  


There wasn’t a horrible amount to recollect, unfortunately. Earlier in the week, Rossiu was in the middle of sorting through stacks of paperwork he hadn’t yet reviewed in order to figure out what was the most urgent to prioritize - another city was in construction to the north, and every day permit requests for building and construction plans roads flooded his desk. He swears that his specific orders were to only accept the requests and plans that seemed needed, but he’s fairly certain that his assistants were too soft-hearted to deny anyone’s requests, and so the duty grimly fell to him. It was honestly a little overwhelming, but no one else really had the jurisdiction to stamp his signature onto the worthwhile documents and shred whatever useless paperwork got sorted in the mix, so he silently accepted the hours of sorting it caused and was maybe a third of the way through the week’s load when two hands slammed down abruptly in front of his face onto his desk.

“Rossiu, it’s 8 PM.” Simon’s voice was surprisingly gentle as Rossiu blearly lifted his head up from whatever dead-end road he was about to reject, and he spent a minute blinking owlishly at the other before glancing at the clock.

“...So it is. Well, let me finish a few more, and I’ll take a break.” He noted, stretching back in his chair a bit, and Simon made a halfhearted sigh in his direction, already making a face. Mentally, he was already steeling himself for whatever new take on ‘you need to take a break from work’ that his boyfriend came up with this week, so when Simon leans further over his desk into his face, he’s already got his dismissal planned.

“You should come to my house on the 14th.”

“...Huh?” He’s so taken aback, he forgets to lean away from Simon and almost crashes directly into his face. “Sorry, come again? Why?”

“You should come to my house on the 14th!” Simon repeats, a tiny grin quickly forming on his face. “It’s Valentine’s, and you deserve a break, and you never listen to me when I tell you so I figured you’d actually listen if it was a fun night.” He pauses, and as if to emphasize finishes with, “At my place.”

Rossiu blinks slowly at him, trying to ignore the small blush already creeping up the side of his face, and sunk down into his chair slightly. “I- I don’t know, Simon, there’s a lot of paperwork to be reviewed and signed for the new city construction, and--”

“Don’t worry about it! I already asked everyone to cover for you for the day!”

“You _what?_ “

“C’mon! We can watch movies! It’ll be nice! You don’t even have to dress up, neither of us do!” Simon’s tone is almost whiny as he falls in an undignified way onto Rossiu’s desk entirely, giving him puppy-dog eyes that he was pretty sure could melt solid steel. 

Rossiu immediately knew he’d already lost, and dropped his head into his hands. “...What time.”

“Yesss! I’ll come pick you up at 5, okay? So don’t work yourself too hard, Rossiu darling,” Rossiu’s head shot up with an sharp, if not mildly flustered death glare, and Simon gave him a bright, shit-eating grin. “It’ll be a relaxing day!”

  
  


* * *

He’s jolted unceremoniously out of his thoughts - lamenting, really - by Simon’s car coming to an abrupt stop and Simon’s genuinely gleeful voice. “We’re home!”

“...Yes, I see that,” He offers with a raised eyebrow and a mild tinge of amusement. “You’re awfully excited, at least.”

“I can tone it down.”

“...No, don’t. It’s nice. I’m just…”

“Surprised? You shouldn’t be,” Simon quirks his mouth up in a much softer, tinier smile, and Rossiu felt his chest constrict slightly, already glancing away to hide the flush gracing his face. Some days, he could only wonder if Simon was actually _aware_ that he could give Rossiu heart palpitations and failure with his actions and just found it funny, or if he had no idea that on his good days his little smiles and laughs could melt _anything,_ not just his heart. He’s so caught up in the sudden pounding of his heart he almost misses the rest of Simon’s sentence as he’s lead up the apartment steps; “It’s always nice to spend time with you. I miss you a lot when you bury yourself in work, you know? I worry, and stuff. So… yeah, I’m excited you came.”

“I- um,” He manages, feeling suddenly and distinctly like his throat was full of sand. “I’m sorry I- didn’t get you anything, or, rather, that--”

“You didn’t have to! I invited you over to watch movies and relax, not to buy me stuff! Geez!” He’s almost scolding, though the smile on his face betrays the actual meaning, and Rossiu closes his mouth abruptly. It takes another minute of silence while Simon unlocks his door for his brain to fire up again, and he remembers the one thing he’d purchased on Kamina’s advice-slash-threat.

“Uh, actually, I take that back,” he mumbles, feeling suddenly small as he follows Simon in, and waits for the door to close before he silently handed a small, modest bouquet of flowers from behind his back. “They’re freesias and carnations, or at least that’s what the tag said. If you’re inter- I mean, it probably doesn’t matter, but…”

He swears that Simon gets _very_ close to fainting for a second, before the sunniest, warmest smile he’d ever seen dawns on his face, and Rossiu feels his chest explode in butterflies and warmth. 

“You…” Simon’s fingertips brush Rossiu’s gently as he takes the bouquet, and he’s surprised to see Simon caught at a relative loss for words as he busies himself immediately with finding the most suitable cup to use as a pseudo-vase. Then again, his breath caught instantly just at the gentle action, and he was just standing there dumbly watching Simon figure out a decent spot for the flowers instead of anything productive, so it wasn’t as if he was much better in the situation.

“I asked if I should get you anything,” Rossiu finally manages when his voice doesn’t feel distinctly like it’s going to crack when he speaks, shrugging off his coat to go find a suitable spot to sit down. “Since- well, I’m not used to… celebrating the holiday, and all. I got a lot of conflicting reports, but Kamina told me you’d probably just like flowers, if I was very uncertain.”

“It figures,” Simon’s laugh echoes from the other room. “If you took the advice of someone like Kittan or Yoko, I’m sure you would’ve tried to drag me out for a fancy night in town or something, but… I love these. Thank you, Rossiu, they’re… really, really pretty.”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t trust his voice to hold steady when he’s swept by the sudden reminder that this was all very _real_ and he was so, _so_ horrifically in love with Simon, so he says nothing and sits very still on the couch, staring blankly at the cup holding the flowers while Simon finishes whatever it is he’s doing in the kitchen. The mug’s painted in garish blues that suggest a gift from someone else from Dai-Gurren, due to a crude little lineless painting of Lagann sort of bisected by the handle, and he absentmindedly wonders if Gimmy or Darry made it for him right after Teppelin fell.

“Sorry,” Simon breaks into his thoughts gently, pushing a small, warm mug into Rossiu’s hands; he immediately recognizes the scent as black tea, with a hint of cinnamon. “I forgot where I put the tea; I don’t really drink it, I just see you with it and coffee a lot, so I bought some, but then I put it in the cupboard and forgot about it and put some sugar in front of it and then I moved the sugar and…” He trailed off with a sheepish smile.

Rossiu, overwhelmed with the simple dedication and _care_ put into the gesture, silently blinked back tears in favor of taking a long sip. When he felt sufficiently like he wasn’t about to cry when he spoke, he managed a very small-sounding “Thank you… so much, Simon. It’s perfect. Did you- did you ask what _blend_ I took?” 

“No, I just stole an empty box from your office,” Simon admitted sheepishly. “And I always see you use cinnamon sticks to stir your cups, so I bought a few to go with it.”

“...Truly? You could’ve just asked.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have been the same.”

Rossiu conceded he had a point and set the mug down gently on the coffee table as Simon collapsed next to him, kicking his shoes haphazardly to the floor and grabbing the remote in one surprisingly fluid motion. “So, what movie did you drag me into?”

“Oh, I dunno. I don’t watch a lot of movies, and when I asked bro, he was largely unhelpful outside of movies that I think kids like? So…”

“...How much of this did you _actually_ plan?”

“Some of it! Most of it! Look, there’s movies about animals and wildlife!”

“Well, that sounds interesting, at least.” 

“See! Who needs to plan out the movie in advance!”

“Generally, if you invite someone to a movie date, you know the movie you’re watching.” 

“Oh, shut up. Let’s watch this movie about penguins.”

Rossiu didn’t even feel as self conscious as he normally did when Simon’s pouting and defensiveness over his lack of planning finally made him collapse into raw, hoarse laughter, and almost missed the happy smile that immediately crossed his face at the sound.

* * *

“...Simon?”

“Yeah?” 

“If you try and mimic penguin wings while you’re leaning on me again, I’ll push you off.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.” Rossiu punctuates his words with a sigh and a hard shove, trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t smiling regardless of his words. Simon let out an undignified squeak and stuck his tongue out at him with a laugh, proceeding to move so he was practically trapping Rossiu under him. 

“You can’t push me off now, you can’t lift me.” Simon teased, turning somewhat ungracefully to glance at Rossiu with an all-too-familiar shit-eating grin, and Rossiu tamped down the urge to laugh directly in his face in favor of an exasperated smile.

“How long do you intend to imprison me here for?”

“Uh, we’re halfway through the movie, so like… another 40 minutes?”

“My arms are already falling asleep, Simon.”

Simon met that with a loud, gleeful laugh as he rolled back over on Rossiu’s stomach, no longer able to meet his accusatory stare or mildly fond, exasperated smile directly and somewhat gently untangled one of his arms from underneath him to lay on top of Simon’s shoulders. 

The meaning of the gesture wasn’t lost on Rossiu, who spent a minute debating if he should actually just push Simon off to compliment their earlier banter or not; he decided on instead dragging a blanket off the couch to haphazardly drape across Simon, who made a very soft noise that was in of itself enough of a reward. 

“Who invented these animals, anyways? They’re so silly looking.”

“The description said they could’ve existed!”

“Really? You’re sure?”

“Yeah! I think they just made up what the little guys would look like, though. I think the way they waddle is good.” 

“Of course you do.”

“What’s that mean?” Simon punctuates it with a playful elbow into Rossiu’s side, and he can’t bite back a small laugh at the gesture. 

“It means you have a very simple desire in creatures. Put simply, you just like little blob-shaped things that walk funny.”

“Yeah, like Boota! What’s wrong with that?!” 

“Nothing.” He can’t hold back his laughter, a rather hoarse but overwhelmingly delighted sound as Simon cranes his head to pout visibly at him. “It’s… it’s endearing, I suppose.”

“Well, your nerdy formal shtick is cute.” Simon retorts, still pouting; Rossiu accepts the heat creeping across his cheeks with grace, aware that he’s clearly already _won_ this discussion.

“Just watch the movie, Simon, before the arm you’re holding prisoner falls asleep.”

  
  
  
  


As it turns out, the thing that fell asleep first was _Simon,_ something Rossiu only became alerted to when his attempts to shift his other arm was met with little resistance. He gently steadied Simon with his free arm, suddenly a little too aware of his even, soft breathing and how his commentary on the movie had gradually tapered off; Rossiu’d just written it off as him running out of things to say. Now, sitting quietly in the dim lights listening to the narrator drone on about hypotheticals of a flightless feathered species and the soft, rhythmic sound of Simon’s breathing, he found his own breath catching slightly. 

What _were_ you supposed to do when your boyfriend fell asleep on you? His only experience beforehand was whenever he slept over, but that was generally at a time of night where you just naturally slept to the next day. Clearly, at only what he guessed to be around 7, he couldn’t just… let him sleep the whole night.

Though, he supposed that he could let Simon sleep for a little longer. Through the end credits of the movie, at least. He seemed so very comfortable and content laying against Rossiu that the thought of moving him induced some physical pain in his chest; he also was harboring the suspicion he’d only be able to push him, anyways.

_‘He feels safe enough around me to sleep on my chest,’_ he mused to himself, aware that if Simon woke up to Rossiu’s admittedly flustered, overwhelmed gaze that he might never hear the end of it. It was so deeply, deeply touching to him, though; just a simple and sweet gesture that reminds him of how real and meaningful everything was. 

He’s also fairly sure that if he ever had the nerve to wax poetic for longer than a minute to Simon that he might finally be able to get him to experience a fraction of how flustered he found himself some days interacting with him, because he could probably sit there for hours gazing longingly at Simon and come up with a million tiny little things that he did on a daily basis that made his heart ache. 

There were many days he had to wonder if Simon was aware of how much his general reckless, yet soothing demeanor had saved his life by simply existing. He suspected a great many more will go by with him wondering if he was able to convey the gravity and scale of his devotion to the man in words to him.

Lost in his own gentle thoughts, he easily missed the credits of the movie as it ended, and eventually nodded off himself, absentmindedly running a hand through Simon’s hair.

  
  


* * *

“Mm… Rossiu?”

He blinked awake slowly to the gentle feeling of someone shaking him, somewhat blearily making out Simon’s not-that-awake face in front of his and using his free hand to wipe his eyes. “Oh, you’re awake?”

“Isn’t that my line? Sheesh… you fell asleep, too.” 

“..Ah, so I did,” he muttered, purposefully looking anywhere but Simon’s eyes. His face was already burning enough, and he couldn’t tell if it was from his brain kicking back into operating gear or the general experience of having someone else fall asleep on you for an unspecified amount of time overwhelming your temperature. “I’m sorry, the movie ended, but you were already asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“So, you couldn’t move me.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” 

Simon’s sleepy, smug grin as a response made Rossiu’s heart do a backflip. He made no effort to move off the couch, instead letting himself fall stomachfirst back onto Rossiu, who made an incredibly undignified squeak of shock. “Well, whatever, you’re cozy and warm. Pick what you want for the next movie, ‘kay?”

“Wh-- you cannot just expect to lay on me the entire night!”

“Why not?”

To that, he had no real answer, just an open mouth with his cheeks burning, and Simon’s lazy smirk in response practically sealed the coffin for him. Finally, dumbly aware he’d just been staring rather scandalized at Simon’s face for at least a good minute or two, he managed a very weak attempt to move to get the remote to emphasize a point. “Can’t… reach the remote.”

“Oh, come _on._ “

“It’s _true._ ”

Clearly willing to prove his own point, Simon easily leaned off of him for a moment, stretching out to snag the carelessly tossed remote from its earlier landing point on the coffee table, triumphantly dropping it on Rossiu’s face and not bothering to smother a giggle at the indignant noise he made in response.

“You’re like a _cat_ , Simon.”

“Want me to start purring?”

“No!”

Simon’s laughter was much softer than normal, still laced with tinges of sleepiness, and Rossiu was very, very uncomfortably aware of his heart pounding in his throat the entire time. Had he the nerve to close the gap between them a bit, he was very much certain he’d-- what? Enjoy it, sure, but also pass back out, if his sudden inability to breathe besides short inhales said anything.

“Rossiu,” There was a very gentle tone to his voice that made Rossiu’s breath stop altogether. “You’re so easy to tease.”

“I-- am not. You just know how to irritate me.”

“I know. You get cute when you’re flustered and sulky, though.”

“I… do _not._ “

“You do from where I’m looking,” he retorted, which was a strong enough defense to make Rossiu close his mouth from whatever frantic, sleep-haze blanketed protest he was going to make next, and Simon gave up the pretense of just teasing Rossiu until his heart failed to gently close the gap between them.

_‘Oh,’_ and his thoughts were very hazy and gentle as he threaded his arms around Simon’s neck, leaning back somewhat into the armrest of the couch and somewhat pulling his boyfriend with him, letting his eyes flutter shut. _‘He’s really warm.’_

It’s not as if it’s their first kiss. They’ve been dating for a few months, at least. The thing is that with Simon, everything sort of always felt like their first kiss - or maybe that was just Rossiu being a bit overly emotional about the entire thing. Regardless of the facts, he always felt a bit lovestruck whenever he felt Simon’s arms around his waist, and he was certain that wouldn’t come to an end anytime soon.

  
  


He doesn’t keep track of how long they spend like that, gently threaded around each other with soft, gentle kisses and Rossiu’s content sighs; every brief break for air left his head spinning a little bit faster, until Simon eventually pulled away with a rather content expression. He tried to ignore any lingering, embarrassing disappointment that he’d lost both the immediate warmth of Simon laying on him and also the sudden lack of kisses; he’d already lost enough of his image in the past minutes anyways. 

“Um,” Simon began somewhat ungracefully, still a little visibly dazed. “Sorry, but I just realized I’ve had you over all day and we haven’t eaten or anything. Do you, like… want something, and then we can pick another movie, or…”

“Ah,” He managed equally inelegantly, rubbing a hand against his burning face and trying to ignore the slight voice crack. “Yes, that’s fine. You don’t have to, though, this is… nice.”

Simon’s expression softened into something Rossiu would describe rather confidently as the definition of ‘lovestruck’, an emotion he felt equally confident he was experiencing himself at that moment. “I love you, you know.”

“...I love you too. Dearly.” His hands almost moved on their own accord as he spoke, gently leaning over to pluck a single carnation out of the bouquet and gently thread it behind one of Simon’s ears into his hair. Simon laughed softly with a slight shake of his head as he swung his legs off the couch, and Rossiu couldn’t stop himself from giving a genuine soft, tender smile as he got up to leave. Before he was fully out of the room, he managed to find his voice long enough to add a half-connected thought. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m… really happy. It’s nice.”

“I’m glad you let me convince you.”

“Me, too.”

Though Rossiu didn’t quite get to see it, Simon ducked into the kitchen with an overjoyed smile across his face, reaching up to touch the flower and silently resolved to not ruin whatever farce of a meal he was intending to serve his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [go look at cin's art,](https://twitter.com/coredriII/status/1228385922095427587) this was DIRECTLY inspired by both of these pieces ! <3


	2. night out - kittan/kamina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Geez, geez, okay!” Kittan throws both his hands up in front of him with his own shit-eating grin, and for a very brief second he could almost think he saw Kittan’s hands shake a little, too. “Someone’s excited.”
>> 
>> “No, I’m despondent,” Kamina retorted dryly. “My boyfriend invited me on a dinner date for the first time in seven years. I’ve never felt a worse emotion in my life. Oh, the horror of candles and fancy expensive food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **forget-me-nots:** memories, true love, rememberance  
>  **sunflowers:** loyalty, passion, dedication, adoration

If anyone asked at that very moment, Kamina Giha was  _ not  _ nervous.

He was, admittedly, currently pacing back and forth frantically between his bedroom and his door, and had been essentially jogging back and forth for the past hour and a half after having combed through his hair three times and frantically fixing his jacket at least twice. All of his pre-date preparations had taken far too little time, leaving him roughly two hours to pace frantically through his apartment and deny feverishly that he was nervous.

He was  _ not  _ nervous, because being nervous meant that the fact that Kittan had promised him a formal date out for Valentine’s made his stomach flutter, and that would-- that would imply lots of things, like he hadn’t been on a formal date before. Which he hadn’t. He wasn’t even certain his wardrobe was suitable for it; the black jacket was the most un-garish clothes he owned. The heart-print polo was just fitting for the holiday. 

He was also fairly certain at least part of the hammering in his chest was solely due to Kittan being late, which probably wasn’t even actually true because  _ he had the fucking time that he promised to pick him up at memorized,  _ but he needs a better reason for practically lapping his house like a dog off a leash and the best out for it is blaming Kittan. 

God, what was wrong with him? You’d almost be able to mistake this for his first date, ever; it was just a fancy dinner out. Wasn’t all that different in the end from fighting mechs in the wasteland in their own mechs and gloating about their exploits over dinner and the campfire that night, he’s sure of it. 

...Okay, so maybe he’s a little nervous. It’s for incredibly stupid reasoning, but he was well aware between his own inability to do more for the government besides encouraging speeches that pretty much only affected the rest of the team and not him and his normal lifestyle of never thinking before he spoke or did anything that he wasn’t really the  _ picture  _ of fancy, formal events. Hell, he’s not even sure he’ll be able to sit through a fancy dinner without accidentally causing a scene, even with Kittan. Scratch that,  _ especially  _ with Kittan; their rivalry had turned into their own practiced form of flirting years ago, and he’s not entirely certain when the last long conversation they’d had without some sort of playful, pretend argument and Kamina egging him on or Kittan pushing his buttons in return was.

So maybe he was a little nervous he was about to royally fuck this all up.

  
  
  


He’s about halfway through nervously fidgeting with the buttons of his jacket again and readjusting it when someone knocks on the door, and he  _ bolts  _ back across the apartment, frantically shoving down all his nerves and erratic breathing very deep inside of him as he yanks the door open. “Yo, you took long enough!”

Kittan blinks for a few seconds at him, raising an eyebrow at his half leaning into the door with a haphazard grin, and shakes his head with barely concealed laughter. “I’m literally ten minutes early! Geez, here I thought I’d fucking beat you to like… getting ready, or something.” 

“I’ve been ready for two hours!”

“What the  _ hell?!  _ I literally told you when I would get here!”

“I know, okay?!” Kamina sticks his tongue out, easily shoving past Kittan to yank his apartment door closed with an immediate grin. “Shaddup, I’m ready, ain’t that what counts?!”

“Geez, geez, okay!” Kittan throws both his hands up in front of him with his own shit-eating grin, and for a very brief second he could  _ almost  _ think he saw Kittan’s hands shake a little, too. “Someone’s excited.”

“No, I’m despondent,” Kamina retorted dryly. “My boyfriend invited me on a dinner date for the first time in seven years. I’ve never felt a worse emotion in my life. Oh, the  _ horror _ of candles and fancy expensive food.”

“Touche, touche. Well, get ready,” Kittan puffs up his chest a little, shooting a rather smug, confident grin at him. “Since dinner’s on me and all, we’re sparing no expense!” 

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

“To the heart of town, duh! Fanciest, most expensive places ever! I made  _ reservations!  _ Reservations!”

“...And they didn’t have, like, a waitlist for the holiday?”

“We work in the government, Kamina. They’d probably unroll a red carpet for us if we asked nicely.”

“...You have a point,” he admitted, taking a moment as he let Kittan lead him back down the building steps to raise a slight eyebrow at his boyfriend. Apparently Kittan’s best ‘formalwear’ that wasn’t his government uniform was a pineapple-print polo, so at least he looked drastically more dressed in comparison. “Damn, I thought I was gonna be underdressed for this, but I guess I win again.”

To his mild surprise, Kittan doesn’t actually turn that into a banter; he glances back at Kamina and opens his mouth as if to, but shuts it and immediately looks away just as fast. Kamina allows himself a silent, shit-eating grin at the victory that tampers into a loud whistle as they both stop on the curb. “You have a motorcycle?”

“Fuck yeah I do!”

“...Can I drive it?”

Kittan’s own absolutely  _ insufferable  _ grin told him what the response was almost instantly, and he only pouted for a minute before swinging onto it behind him, threading his arms around Kittan’s waist. “Maybe on the way home!” Kittan yelled over the immediate roar of the motor, and Kamina’s exaggerated scowl went unseen.

  
  


* * *

As it turns out, Kamina’s fears are not so unfounded after all.

To their credit, the night started out great. A motorcycle ride through the town between taking shots at each other verbally?  _ Fantastic.  _ He couldn’t deny the goofy grin on his face the entire ride  _ to  _ the restaurant, at least. The ride home would probably be similarly amusing, if only for the fact he could insist on trying to drive Kittan’s motorcycle back and watch him have a mild heart attack at the thought.

And they’d at least checked in with no issues; Kittan’s point about reservations being fairly easy to obtain when you helped create the government was surprisingly true, and it was a little flattering to be chattered at excitedly while escorted to a table. He made a mental note to at least tip their server a good 80% of the bill, whatever the hell that turned out to be.

The problem revealed itself approximately twenty minutes into appetizers, which in of itself was a concept that hurt Kamina’s brain a little bit ( _ why the hell did they need a mini plate of food before the main plates of food?  _ ) when he found himself mindlessly clinking his fork against the plate and shifting restlessly in his chair, at a loss for any reasonable conversation topic.

“...Appetizers are a weird concept.” 

“Yeah, right?” Kittan punctuates his vaguely amused agreement by tapping the table with his glass, and the awkward silence refills the air. Around them, Kamina can pick out fragments of conversations between other couples and families, all talking about mundane and everyday topics; the pair across the room in one of the corner booths is arguing over what color to paint their newborn’s room, and a guy two tables behind Kittan is nervously asking about wedding planning. 

It’s all so very ordinary, and makes him feel so very out of place. 

“So, uh,” Kittan begins after another few minutes of silence. “Like… how’s Simon?”

“...Dude, you work with him.”

“Yeah, but like, you just recently stopped living with him! You gotta have better stories!”

He decides to refrain from pointing out Kittan has heard  _ every story he’s ever had _ far before this and drums his fingers on the table, trying to think of something to respond with. Finally, a little lightbulb clicks as abruptly he sits up a bit straighter. “I think Rossiu’s celebratin’ tonight with him, so there’s that!”

“Shit, seriously? He got  _ Rossiu  _ to take a break?!”

“Apparently! Kid asked me if he should get him anything, I panicked ‘n said flowers… so hopefully they have like, a cute night. I’m really happy for Simon! They’re cute together!”

Kittan’s laughter stumbles for a fraction of a second midway through his dramatic retelling of a very mundane moment, before he manages to tone it down slightly when a few of the other customers shoot irritated glares in their general direction. The reminder of how quiet and formal the place was dampens the mood a little bit almost immediately, though Kittan’s still grinning a bit, clearly tickled by the general thought. Kamina manages something that passes for a bright grin, and their table lapses back into awkward silence for a few more minutes until food arrives.

The second mood dampener of the night reveals itself as he picks through a slightly overdone steak and tries his best to not swing his legs under the table to kick Kittan’s, which is that in addition to having absolutely no idea how to make small talk to someone he already spent most of his time playfully bickering with, the food at the restaurant was…  _ subpar _ , to put it nicely. It wasn’t necessarily bad, it was just… tough, and surprisingly bland, and he was fairly sure he ordered it medium rare but it arrived at the table medium well, and generally wasn’t proving itself worth the price tag. 

After managing to force his way through a handful of bites, a very quick glance at Kittan seemed to confirm that he wasn’t all that into whatever he’d ordered, either. Almost on cue, he glanced up to meet Kamina’s eyes with a vaguely sheepish expression, and silently offered him his fork with a bit of salmon speared on the end. He took it as the invite it was to lean over and try it, pushing his own plate vaguely in Kittan’s direction in the process, and  _ immediately  _ regretted it as the uncomfortably sweet, yet somehow bitter flavor overwhelmed his mouth a single bite in. He barely managed to finish the piece, coughing as silently as he could, and Kittan offered him something between a smirk and a grimace, already leaning to grab a piece of the very depressing excuse for meat left on Kamina’s plate.

“Augh, god, what thellisthat?” He barely remembered to keep his voice down, never more thankful in his life they’d splurged for a light sparkling cider to go with the dinner instead of actual champagne. 

“It’s, well, it’s salmon,” Kittan wheezed, voice unsteady and threatening to crack into a roaring laugh. “The menu said it was ‘lavender cured’, whatever the hell that means, so I was like… whatever, it’s a treat!”

“Flower-cured?! You’re eating flower fish?!”

“What’s wrong with yours?!”

He didn’t wait for a reply to that, already having haphazardly sliced a chunk off the plate and popped it in his mouth, so Kamina just waited and finished his glass while Kittan’s facial expressions told the story of the sad betrayal of tough, bland meat.

“That’s what. Also, I ordered it medium rare, and that thing’s the farthest shit from bleedin’ ever.” 

“...Yeah, okay, I can understand why you looked like you’d rather eat the fucking metal fork than finish this.”

The uncomfortable realization of both of their voices having been rising the entire discussion abruptly shattered the moment when Kamina caught the table directly behind them glaring nastily at him, and silence swept their little table immediately, both of them uncomfortably poking the disappointing dinner platters with forks and failing to come up with anything to say. As if to truly bury the brief enjoyment the two of them were having over taking the piss at the food, a different waitress than the one that showed them in walked over, pursing her lips slightly as she stopped by their table.

“I’m terribly sorry, but could you keep it down a bit? It’s bothering some of the other customers.”

“...Yeah, sorry.” Kamina muttered, managing a small smile that hopefully passed as ‘apologetic’, and she walked away with little fanfare as he sunk back down into his seat.

He was incredibly close to finishing off his order anyways, just so that  _ something  _ came of the entire venture besides a test to see how miserably he fails at shutting his mouth and sitting still, when Kittan leaned over to tap his hand with one finger, frowning slightly. “Do you just, like… I know we’ve spent like, 40 minutes loitering here for sad food, but d’you just wanna fucking  _ go _ ?” 

“Go where?”  _ Yes _ , was the unspoken plea he’s fairly sure was written on his face.

“Anywhere, I dunno.” Kittan was already standing up, scowling down at the table relatively silently as he fished up something to overpay, carelessly tossing a few large bills down. “Should cover it, they can keep whatever as a tip, let’s get the hell outta here.”

He didn’t protest as Kittan basically lead-slash-dragged him out of the restaurant, silently hopping on the back of his motorcycle and watching the waitress’s shocked reaction to their table through the window as they tore out of the curb.

  
  


* * *

“...Sorry. I just--” Kittan was straining to be audible over the roar of the road and wind whipping by them as they effortlessly soared through the downtown streets. “Like… wanted to do something all fancy and nice for a change. I dunno how the hell that place got so many good reviews!”

“Somethin’ tells me that people will see weird plants and high prices and automatically decide the food’s good, even when it ain’t!”

“Well, that’s just stupid! Rate the place based on its FOOD QUALITY, not its PRICE!”

Kamina let himself have the joy of a boisterous, unrestrained laugh in agreement at that, burying his face into Kittan’s shirt after a minute. “Where the hell are we going?!”

“I dunno, dude! Cheap food off a stand and zip around the city!” 

He couldn’t stop the big grin that formed on his face at the simple plan. “Fuck yeah! That sounds  _ killer. _ ”

  
  
  


As it turned out, being dragged around the city at night buying cheap sodas and handheld food off tiny blocks of assorted bakeries and fast-food cubbies, bickering unabashedly loudly and to a foreign ear almost harshly, and zooming around helmetless with the wind in his hair and arms around Kittan’s waist was  _ much  _ more Kamina’s speed. The first stop had been cheap buffet mozzarella sticks that  _ immediately  _ gave him a stomach ache and Kittan teasingly dumping the ice from his glass down his shirt, and it only had gotten better on their whirlwind tour of the nightlife.

“God, this rules,” he muttered at one stop, leaning over to steal Kittan’s straw off whatever horrible chocolate-ice cream concoction he’d ordered and ignoring his immediate squawk of protest with a grin. “What the hell were we thinking with our first plan?”

“At least you weren’t stealing my milkshake then!”

“How is this a  _ milk _ -shake?! It’s ice cream!”

“Oh, will you  _ shut up _ ?!”

He shot Kittan his biggest shit-eating, insufferable grin and barely ducked with roaring laughter in time to avoid half of it being thrown into his face.

  
  


Another stop had Kittan ditching him for a few minutes, so he took the liberty of ordering a crepe to make up for the 0 for 2 he’d had on food that night. Leaning against the motorcycle under a streetlamp, he could almost close his eyes and mistake the day for one of the many they spent running around the surface on the way to Teppelin, recklessly running around in Gurren and King Kittan and getting into stupid contests every other day for no real reason. 

When Kittan returned with something held very suspiciously behind his back that he hurriedly hid in the basket on the back of the thing, Kamina was staring off into space with a tiny smile, something that he quickly scrambled to cover as soon as it dawned on him he was no longer left idling alone. He didn’t ask questions, though; he just leaned over to steal a bite of his crepe and return the favor Kamina had been paying him all night, leaving him with a loud “ _ OI! _ “ and Kittan’s cackle as he swung onto the motorcycle to avoid the incoming punch.

  
  


He shut his eyes as they streaked back off into the night, letting the wind rustle through his hair and smiling as he leaned back into Kittan, a wordless gesture of thanks. 

  
  


* * *

“Hey, don’t tell me you can  _ fall asleep  _ on a  _ moving  _ motorcycle! Jackass!”

“I’m not asleep!” Kamina protested, snapping his eyes open and throwing his hands up with a pout. It immediately dawned on him they were stopped and that since he had  _ no  _ idea how he got there, he  _ could’ve  _ fallen asleep peacefully on the fucking thing, but he chose not to mention that, swinging his legs off the side to lean against the seat. 

“Sure you weren’t! Geez, what the hell would I have done if you like, let go and fell off?!”

“Carry me home?”

“THAT’S the question you took from that sentence?! How you’ll GET HOME?!” 

Kamina’s violent laughter filled the air as Kittan took a swing at him, dropping to his knees to avoid the punch with a violent wheeze. It didn’t take much longer for Kittan himself to collapse in roaring laughter, a half-wheezed “ _ God, I hate you! “ _ barely distinguishable between gasps and coughs.

Once they’d managed to calm down, it occurred to him that he was now sitting in dirt in one of his nicer pairs of pants; it took him about twenty seconds to decide he  _ really  _ didn’t care, and scooted over to where Kittan had keeled over to sit next to him. It was also in the process he registered their surroundings, and he cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“This is the edge of town.”

“No shit!”

“Why’d you drag me out here?” 

Kittan seemed to pause to consider how to answer that question as Kamina leaned against his shoulder in the meantime. It’d been a good chunk of time since either of them had really been near the outskirts of the city, back to where the much more ruined wasteland of the surface still laid undeveloped, and it filled his lungs with an odd sense of nostalgia just to gaze out upon it.

“Just… y’know. Been a while since we’ve been on the surface.” 

“Figuratively, or literally?”

“Both?”

He hummed, a soft acknowledgement and agreement and understanding all at once, and let his free hand quietly intertwine itself with Kittan’s. Silence filled the air between them, cozy and peaceful rather than awkward and strained this time.

“Sorry the dinner date didn’t work out.” Kittan finally broke the silence in an uncharacteristically quiet, honest tone, and Kamina waved it off with a free hand, letting out a soft laugh.

“It’s fine. I wasn’t kidding; I think tearing up the streets recklessly and getting cheap food is more my speed, anyways.”

“Yeah, it’s mine too! I know! I just…” He dropped Kamina’s hands to gesture in frustration, exhaling forcefully before dropping them back down. “Wanted today to be special, I guess. You said it yourself, I’m not much of a proper date person, and then I see Kiyoh and Dayakka always going out for fancy dates when they have free time and a babysitter and even Simon and Rossiu are doing the proper courtship and wooing stuff, and I just…”

He drifted back into silence, and Kamina let it hang in the air for a minute before he replied, a gentle laugh accompanying his words. “If I’m the dumbass, you’re the king of dumbasses, Kittan.”

“I’m trying to have a moment!”

“I know, I know!” He threw his hands up as Kittan visibly scowled at him, and felt a slight pang of regret; this was really serious to him, and he wasn’t trying to dismiss it. “Just… dude, our first kiss was after you shoved me into King Kittan during a fistfight. We met because you pried open my mech after  _ bombing _ it to try and kill me.”

Kittan raised an eyebrow wordlessly, so he took it as an invite to continue. “The closest thing to a date we’ve ever had was all the times we went into battle like, literally side by side,” he paused, feeling suddenly self conscious as he continued in a quieter voice, “And that time near the ravine. That’s probably closer to an actual date.” 

“...Yeah.” Kittan gently intertwined his hand with one of Kamina’s at that, glancing back out over the ruined miles of dirt. “That was nice, though. Not the next day, but like.”

“Ha-ha.” Kamina rolled his eyes, squeezing his hand as silent reassurance. “Listen, the point is… neither of us are fancy, formal people. We’re both the kinda people who prefer wrestling in the dirt and doing stupid shit and fighting to dressing up and being all quiet and not playfully arguing over everything.”

“I know, I know,” Kittan sighed, a bit quieter and deflated this time. “I just… like, wanted to do something nice for a change.”

“...Would you turn it into a fight if I told you I was fuckin’ terrified of how tonight was gonna go?”

He punctuated it with a kick at the dirt as Kittan immediately whirled to face him, eyes wide. “Seriously?!”

“Yeah! I don’t think before I speak, sitting still and not on my fuckin’ legs is the worst shit that’s ever been conceived before, I have no idea what fancy food is or if it’s any good, and the thing I’m best at is being reckless and firing up other people!” He found himself scowling slightly by the end of his rant, and shook his head slightly to clear it. “Dude, this is the fanciest and least garish clothes I own. I was like, ‘ _ fuck, I’m gonna ruin tonight!’ _ , and I  _ still  _ feel kind of bad that I ruined dinner!”

“First of all, you didn’t ruin dinner. Dinner being shit and the other people eating being stuffy pricks ruined dinner,” Kittan objected, poking him hard in the chest to emphasize his point as Kamina stuck his tongue out. “Second of all, you definitely have me beat in the looking nice department in this very specific scenario, so to find out you were freaking out that hard about it…”

“Yeah, well… you weren’t the only one who wanted to do something special, y’know?” 

They lapsed into a much quieter, gentle silence as Kittan gave him a gradually growing grin at that, seemingly coming to the same realization: god, they had both tried too hard tonight. 

“Well, you look good. I didn’t say that earlier because if I gave you the satisfaction of me agreeing out of the gate, you’d never let it go.”

“Thaaaanks. Did you  _ blush _ ? The great Kittan Bachika had to hide a  _ blush _ ? Is my allure that strong?”

“Oh, I’m gonna  _ kill _ you. Never-fucking-mind!”

He didn’t even put up a fight as Kittan practically tackled him into the dirt, laughing far too hard to even bother, only deciding to egg on the banter when Kittan accidentally slid one arm practically through his jacket sleeve in the process. “Oh, now  _ this  _ is reminiscent of our first dates--”

“Will you  _ CAN IT? _ !”

He let his boisterous, roaring laughter that echoed through the still air and Kittan’s mildly indignant protests fading into laughter speak as an answer to that question, eventually quieting down when Kittan stopped to catch his breath, laying against Kamina’s chest with weak, sputtering wheezes. 

“I’m glad tonight still turned out good.”

“I mean… I dunno, I think it went pretty perfect for us. Short of reliving the glory days and charging recklessly into a fight, I dunno what’s more perfect for us both.”

Kittan laughed at that, pushing himself up out of the dirt with a shake of his head, and Kamina grinned brazenly as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch him dig something out of the basket on the back of the motorcycle, producing a (mildly-squished) bouquet of small blue flowers and sunflowers that he somewhat unceremoniously dropped into Kamina’s lap. 

“Well, listen, people do this on fancy dates,” He announced, dropping back down to sit near Kamina as he scrambled to more of a sitting position to pick up the flowers with wide eyes. “So I got one out of three!”

“Holy shit,” he breathed, picking one of the smaller blue flowers out of the bouquet and threading it behind one ear, next to the arm of his glasses. “Lucky guess that my only thought of traditionally romantic shit is flowers?”

“Dude, I fucking asked Rossiu. I about blacked out when you told me  _ you  _ gave him the flower advice!” 

Kamina coughed, a bit of a smothered laugh overshadowed by surprise. “Damn, I guess it pays to give advice out.”

He swayed a bit as he stood up to gently stick the bouquet back into the basket, glancing back at Kittan’s quizzical face when he sat back down. “Well, I need to take them home to put them in a vase, and I’m gonna be holding onto you otherwise, so…”

“Ah, yeah, fair.” The immediate glance to the side told Kamina he was already trying to hide a big, sappy smile of his own. “Glad you like them, and shit. They’re like… our colors. The blue ones are called forget-me-nots, and… well…”

“Wow, that’s a lot of thought from you in one gift.”

“I could attack you right now, Kamina Giha.” 

He grinned brazenly at Kittan and leaned back against his shoulders with a soft chuckle. “Yeah, okay.”

When Kittan gently threaded one arm back around his waist to yank him ungracefully into a rather deep kiss, running his free hand through blue hair, he conceded to himself that he was probably not going home for a while yet and the flowers probably should’ve been bought on the way back.

Then again, as he leaned into the kiss with a rather soft, content sigh and wrapped his arms around Kittan’s neck, if mildly wilted flowers were the exchange rate for banter-that-makes-your-boyfriend-make-out-with-you-in-the-desert, he’d probably buy Kittan a million bouquets himself.

**Author's Note:**

> [go look at cin's art,](https://twitter.com/coredriII/status/1228385922095427587) this was DIRECTLY inspired by both of these pieces ! <3


End file.
